


The man with the golden everything

by Jaded_From_Life



Series: Every family has issues [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, His employees really care for him, Insomniac!Scrooge, Scrooge is a sad old duck, They really do, he needs some hugs, not really original I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 16:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18370190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaded_From_Life/pseuds/Jaded_From_Life
Summary: It's the moniker that he's earned, but Scrooge could care less about gold. What good is gold if it can't bring his family back?





	The man with the golden everything

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to include Quackfaster, but I don't know how to write crazy-archivist-who-carries-around-a-sword-with-her. Like I always say (or at least will always be saying), feedback is always appreciated and keeps the world of imagination go round!
> 
> Also, here are the songs I forced into my head so I can write this! So I can manipulate your emotions to feel like this fic has much more depth than it actually has! I don't own any of them!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSCwqCsSK1g  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvH5ZhSn1Jg

The streets of Duckburg were very much like the cycle of day and night. In that they have two kinds of atmosphere. By day, it bustles with activity  _(noisy noisy noisy it’s so noisy_ ). By night, no one is out and the streets are quiet  _(no no no no no no please don’t go please I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry)_.  

Scrooge McDuck makes this observation as he rides through the very same streets in his limo, his chauffeur being quiet for once. He sinks back into his seat, eyes tired after a long day at his office counting the dollars and pennies he’s made today.  

_(useless useless useless it’s all so useless)_

Scrooge draws out a long, tired sigh and attempts to fall asleep.

 

 

 _He dreams of-_  

“Welcome home, Mr. McDee,” his chauffeur, Launchpad, announced, startling Scrooge awake. “Evening, Mrs. Bee,” he spoke to the speaker then waited.  

The iron gates swung open, allowing passage to the McDuck manor which Launchpad took without issue. Once the limo was parked, Scrooge stepped out and headed to the door.  

“Hey, Mr.McDee,” Launchpad called out, and Scrooge turned back to look at him. “You know, there’s this café that just opened up down the street. I thought that maybe you wanna check it out tomorrow?” 

Scrooge quirks a brow in reply. “Eh, that’s thoughtful of you, Launchpad, but tomorrow’s another busy day for me.”  

“Oh.” Launchpad seemed to deflate. “Well, if you change your mind, you know who to call,” he said before driving away, kicking up dust as he did so.  

Scrooge rolled his eyes and continued his way to the door. The door opened, revealing his housekeeper, Beakley, who was waiting for him.  

“Good evening, Mr.McDuck,” Beakley greeted crisply.  

Scrooge grumbled in reply, pushing past his housekeeper and into his home.  

“Rough day at work?” 

Scrooge faces Beakley, looks her dead in the eyes, opens his mouth to say something  _(_ _go away leave me alone_ _)_ , but then stops himself. He simply lets out a long, tired sigh. 

Scrooge didn’t bother to say more, opting instead to trudge forward, his destination set to his- 

A hand clasped firmly onto his shoulders, and if it were possible, Scrooge would've jumped out of his skin. He turned around to face the owner of the hand with a glare. "What?" he hisses, tone as icy as the blizzard that blows over Mount Neverrest in its worst days. 

"Sir," Beakley starts with only a hint of hesitation in her voice. "That is not the way to your room." For all the times Scrooge knew her, Beakley was never a woman who openly shows her emotions (likely part of her job as a secret agent, standard stuff really), but right here, right now, there was worry and fear in her eyes. Not for herself, but for  _him_. She knows where he'll go, and what he plans to do once he's there. 

Scrooge knows this, knows he'll be stopped, knows deep within him that it's useless, but still he  _hopes_ _(stubborn old man, when will you learn)_ and he clings on to that small, tiny, inconceivable chance. He opens his mouth to refute, to argue that today might be  _t_ _he_ day and he just can't afford to be negligent, but ultimately closes his mouth and says nothing before marching down to his room like a defeated soldier. 

He thinks of the times this had happened, and wonders how many times he's hoped for the same thing every time. 

_(it could be today it could be today it could be today it could be today_

_it could have been today)_

 

 

Scrooge opens the door to his room, steps inside as he shuts the door behind him, and soaks in the sight. His room is bathed in soft moonlight, a somber glow that barely illuminated the darkened room. Scrooge avoids the light, almost like it was going to burn him should it ever shine upon him  _(he doesn't know why he does it - shame? guilt? fear? he can't quite figure out, and he doubts he ever will)_. He sticks to the darkness, skirting around the edges of his room before he reaches his bed and clambers onto it. He reached for the covers and pulls it over himself, staring bleakly at the roof of his bed. 

Scrooge closes his eyes, and hopes for a peaceful slumber. 

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

In his sleep, he dreams of the good old days - when he, Donald, and Della were at their best, exploring the world and discovering mysteries. He dreams of the eggs that he held in his arms, the joy he felt when he watched his nephew and niece coo so lovingly at them. He dreams of what his great nephews would look like. 

Scrooge opens his eyes once more and doesn't go back to sleep.


End file.
